This Is Our Night
by thexwalrus
Summary: George and Angelina's wedding day. A little fic that popped into my head. Fluffy and bittersweet, and involves a lot of my headcanon.  Implied Percy/Oliver sidepairing.


Angelina Johnson looked at herself in the mirror in Percy's old bedroom at the Burrow yet again, twisting around to look at the back of the fluffy white dress she was wearing. A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and with a sigh, she said, "come in."

George Weasley couldn't help but smile at the sight – beautiful Angelina all done up, wearing the most perfect gown he could imagine. "Not getting cold feet, are you?" he asked playfully.

"George!" she exclaimed. "It's bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding!"

"Oh, that's just a silly superstition. And to be quite honest, Auntie Muriel thinks we're doomed already," he chuckled, sitting on the bed.

"Why's that?" Angelina sat herself in his lap, straightening his red tie and smiling.

"Because you had a relationship with…" He let the silence hang in the air for a moment. "She thinks you're only with me 'cause I look like him."

"She's wrong," Angelina said firmly. "I am in love with George Fabian Weasley." She ran her fingers through his hair and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, standing up. "Now, you better go finish getting ready and go downstairs. I have to say goodbye to being Angelina Johnson, and I think I best do that alone."

He smiled, standing up and pulling her in for another quick kiss. "I'll see you in a little bit, love."

* * *

><p>The reception was in full swing in the tents outside the Burrow. Everyone was laughing and dancing. Oliver Wood was telling of his latest triumphs with Puddlemere United at a table with Harry, Percy, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Ginny. He gestured wildly with his hands, smiling as he did so. They were all riveted, and they leaned in to hear him better.<p>

Molly and Arthur were waltzing expertly on the dance floor, accompanied by Bill and Fleur and Ron and Hermione. Ron was stumbling about, not really sure of what to do, and Bill was chuckling at him. Charlie was telling stories about dragons to an enthusiastic little Teddy Lupin, who gurgled excitedly, making Charlie smile.

But the bride was nowhere to be found.

George slowly meandered outside, sidestepping congratulations from his family and absentmindedly pushing his slightly shaggy hair down over the ear he'd lost. Sure enough, Angelina was where he thought she'd be: sitting on an old wooden bench in the garden, staring up at the stars.

"You're going to get your dress dirty," he said softly, going to sit beside her.

She turned her gaze to him. "I'm sorry I left, I just couldn't… that empty seat next to you just got a little hard to look at."

He nodded. He hadn't had a best man, and instead had left the space empty. The only man worthy of that honor was dead, and it wouldn't be right to replace him. "I know."

Angelina shook her head. "I'm not going to cry over this right now. This is _our_ night. He wouldn't want us mourning him. He'd want us celebrating with the rest of them."

George leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers gently. The kiss was slow and perfect, and Angelina wrapped her arms around his neck. "Or he'd want us doing this," she mumbled, smiling into the kiss.

Without warning, George picked her up bridal style and started carrying her back to the reception. "They'll start to wonder where we disappeared to," he explained. "And we can't have that, now can we, Mrs. Weasley?"

It was the first time he had called her that, and it sent pleasant shivers down her spine. "No, we can't, Mr. Weasley."

George leaned down and kissed her yet again as they stepped back into the tent. Applause broke out around them and he set her down, smiling like a damn fool as she blushed and hid her face in his chest.

The rest of the reception was filled with laughter and kisses and various other jolly things. It was surprisingly calm for a Weasley event, but that one empty chair next to George seemed to be a sobering reminder of why there weren't any pranks.

Towards the end of the night, something surprising happened. All of the guests who were single were suddenly flirting and snogging each other. Hermione discovered someone had slipped love potion into their goblets, and she let a disbelieving smile cross her face.

George looked like he'd just found out Christmas was coming early. "Fred…" he whispered so only Angelina could hear him. She nodded slowly, wide-eyed and dumbstruck. Who else would've done something like that? George had been with her since he'd found her in the garden – it couldn't have been him.

After the chaos had subsided, resulting in many blushing individuals and a few new couples (Oliver and Percy had really hit it off, it seemed), the newlyweds were sent on their way by a group of waving Weasleys and friends. As George and Angelina apparated away and Molly began directing the cleanup, Percy Weasley slipped a empty heart-shaped bottle back into his pocket.

He would never own up to what he did.


End file.
